


Tiramisu

by Thistlerose



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the best planet in the galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiramisu

“So maybe I’m getting ahead of myself,” McCoy said, “but I’m willing to wager real money this is the best goddamn planet in the galaxy.”

“Mmmhmm,” Nyota said around her mouthful of tiramisu.

Except for the rustle of the water in the fountain behind them, the piazza was quiet. A warm breeze slipped among the buildings, teasing Nyota’s hair and the hem of her skirt. The sun was low in the pinkish-yellow sky, and deep red shadows stretched languidly across the stones. It was, she reflected, like sitting at the center of a rose.

“More wine?” McCoy asked, tilting the bottle toward the empty glass beside her.

Nyota delicately wiped a few stray dots of mascarpone from the corner of her lips. “Yes, please.”

“A man could get used to a place like this,” McCoy said as he poured. His head was tilted, and she found herself captivated by the strong line of his neck, the flash of collarbone.

“And a woman could get very, very fat,” she said. “And be very, very happy.”

She took the glass from him and sipped the wine. Rolled it around on her tongue and palate, wanting to taste it with every part of her mouth. After swallowing, she started to run her tongue over her lips.

“Let me,” McCoy said, cupping her chin in his hand and leaning closer. His tongue flicked against her lips, and she parted them, inviting him in. He entered slowly, almost leisurely, but she felt the way his pulse jumped, the way his heartbeat quickened beneath her palm. Her tongue curled against his, and he deepened the kiss, drinking her in. She imagined she tasted of red wine, strong coffee, mascarpone, sugar, and cocoa.

“Think I got it all,” he drawled when he pulled back finally, smiling.

“I think,” she said, feeling slightly dazed, maybe from the wine and the good food, maybe from him, “all survey teams should be required to bring Italian cookbooks with them and leave them behind by accident.”

“I think you might be onto something,” he said, leaning down to claim another kiss.

2/28/2010


End file.
